A Little Bird Told A Little Hobbit
by SimplyInk
Summary: One of the Fellowship's smallest in for a big surprise after being chased by a mysterious black bird. This Hobbit will have some explaining to do when his friends see just what it was his adventure has found... If they can find him in time. WARNING: Violence/gore, torture/abuse, rape (in later chapters) Resubmit from my AOO account.
1. The Black Bird

_****__One of the Fellowship's smallest in for a big surprise after being lead on a curious chase by a mysterious black bird. This Hobbit will have some explaining to do when his friends see just what it was his curiosity has found._

_Set shortly before the Mines of Moria (so everyone is alive ;u;), but after it was already suggested by Gimli. Mostly movie-verse, with some lore from the books. Contains an OMC, violence/gore, torture/abuse. Rated M for obvious reasons. _

* * *

Gimli's passive aggressive grumbles, coupled with the talkative Took and the equally bothersome Brandybuck, were almost enough for Gandalf to give in to the earlier made request of going through the Mines of Moria, if only to shut them up.

But in his many years, the great grey wizard had somehow managed to keep patience strong. And the time for rest swiftly arrives as the sun fell below the trees that surrounded the Fellowship, unveiling the sparkling stars and blanketing them in darkness. And the Hobbits were more than eager to eat.

With happy chatter among them, the cook fire was set up and the aroma of stew made their hungry bellies growl.

"Pippin!" Merry barked, playfully shoving his cousin as the smaller Hobbit snuck a spoonful of his stew. Pippin whined in protest, as though he hadn't had any stew of his own. "Merry, I'm still hungry..." He turned his faux-sad eyes on Frodo and Sam, who had been chuckling at the pair. Sam rolled his eyes as his answer, Frodo feigning innocence and turned his attention back to his own bowl. "Can't always get what ya' want by beggin', Pip." Merry said through a mouthful of spoon, which received a dejected huff from the younger Hobbit.

Boromir, sitting across from the scene, laughed and turned to Aragorn. "For creatures half the size of men, they've twice the appetite."

"Thrice, in Pippin's case!" Merry teased, bringing a good laugh from the others. "It's alright, they're only joking." Frodo said with a smile as Pippin sulked at the jokes at his expense. Sam gave him a firm pat on the back as he walked by to help clean up.

The night became colder by the minute it seemed, the small fire suddenly not enough to keep the group warm. Gandalf thought to himself if he were any other man his old bones would be aching right about now. Aragorn announced they should search the area for any kindling, but to stay within earshot and shouting distance. Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf stayed in the camp.

Pippin and Merry went one way, Boromir and Aragorn another, and Legolas and Gimli the other. At first Boromir suggested going with the Hobbits, but Aragorn replied that they were not in immediate danger so close to the camp.

It was not long before fat snowflakes began to fell around them, melting under their feet as they stepped over branches and rocks. Merry and Pippin were heading slightly uphill of camp, in the direction their journey had been going. Up the mountain Caradhras, to the path. That's what Gandalf had said. Pippin was not looking forward to the snow...

Wrapping his cloak around himself tighter, Pippin followed Merry into the woods, keeping close with his eyes on the ground. The duo were surprisingly silent, unnerved by the darkness and silence of the surrounding woods.

Crouching down to gather a rather large log in his arms, Pippin heaved it up, grunting as he did. "Hey Merry, look at this one!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper, turning to show it off. He expected to see the fire's glow though the trees, to see his cousin right there with his own armful of firewood. But in the darkness, Pippin found himself utterly alone.

* * *

"Merry?!" Pippin hissed, standing frozen in shock. He was alone in the darkness after somehow losing his cousin. His voice rose slightly in a high pitched panic. "Merry?"

Turning around a few times, Pippin raised his voice. "Merry!" He was quiet, hoping for a response. When none answered, his fear created terrible thoughts in his mind. Had Merry been hurt? Would it be his fault? Was he as lost as Pippin was?

Pippin shifted his feet nervously, realizing he had turned himself around to where he didn't know the right from wrong direction. "Oh Pippin you fool..." he said to himself as he took a hopeful step. Away from camp.

* * *

Merry hadn't realized he'd wandered from his cousin, distracted by a very nice collection of firewood that seemed to lead off in a trail. He was so proud of his find of this dry wood that he hadn't actually looked up for a good many minutes. When he did, it was at the sound of a somewhat distant voice, almost too quiet to hear. "Pippin, did you hear-" he began to ask, looking around, before realization struck. "Pip!" He called into the air, breath melting the snowflakes that fell in front of his face.

At first Merry was mad at his foolish little cousin, always having to mess things up or wander off. But the thought of him hurt sent a pang of guilt through his mind. Turning around, he followed his own trail back, which was almost covered by snow now.

'Pippin wouldn't wait around for someone to find him.' Merry thought. 'He might have wandered back to camp.' He dashed back to camp, dreading and hoping.

* * *

As Pippin walked the opposite direction. His toes were cold, cheeks and ears red, and he sniffled every few steps. But he was still holding on to that log, hoping dumb luck would be on his side that night. Something was on his side at that moment, but it wasn't luck, and it certainly wasn't dumb.

Pippin nearly dropped the branch in his arms as the caw of a raven above him ripped through the silent snowy air. Looking up, he blinked rapidly as the snow landed on his face and in his eyelashes. But he could see it- the big black bird that perched in a tree directly above him. It took a moment of staring to realize that the bird was staring right back at him. Nervously, Pippin took a few steps away, to be under a different tree.

With a loud flap of its wings, the raven glided from one branch to the next, taking the same position as before, only on a lower branch now. Pippin shivered and picked up the pace.

The snow was deep enough to crunch beneath his feet now, so now all Pippin heard was his own footsteps and the flap of the ever nearing black bird. His pace quickened to a sprint, but the bird kept pace. Without looking up, he knew it was directly above him. His blood rushed in his ears, almost deafening out the faint sound of rushing water.

Suddenly the raven was beside him, so Pippin veered away. Then the bird rose and came down on his other side. Pippin changed course again. Suddenly it didn't feel like a chase. The thought that he was being herded crossed the Hobbits terrified mind just before the trees broke in front of him.

* * *

"The snow has fallen thick, but there are still tracks here." Aragorn spoke to his companions. Boromir held a burning torch beside him, with Merry on the other side. "...You think he's alright?" the Hobbit asked.

Boromir offered a smile. "He probably just got turned around. Woods can be a dangerous place for one so small." Merry twisted his mouth in an uneasy smile. Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and with a nod, lead the way.

Merry had insisted on coming along to find his cousin, though the men were more than capable. The others had offered as well, but Gandalf had proclaimed they would not need the entire Fellowship to find one Hobbit. So they stayed behind to warm by the fire ad take watch for the night.

The snow had made the tracks hard to find at first, nearly covered by the steady snowfall. But the tracker had lived up to his title and the trio was quickly advancing.

"Here... His pace quickened. He began to run, as if chased." Aragorn announced as the tracks lengthened in stride. He stepped around them, looking for what could be the cause of the chase. "What was chasin' him?" Merry asked, terrified that Pippin may have been captured by some horrible beast. "...there are no other tracks. No creature on foot gave chase to our young Hobbit friend."

"Somethin' must have given him a fright, though." Merry exclaimed, shivering and shifting. Boromir stood next to him and offered him the torch for warmth. He accepted it, holding it close enough to warm his freezing fingers. "That, my friend, I cannot give the answer to."

"When we find him, we'll ask him." Boromir said, in an attempt at reassuring his worried friend, who gave him a sad look in return.

* * *

Pippin had been right in his last thought. This raven had led him towards a river, wide and frozen over. It took the Halfling a moment to realize just why. His ears, still burning, picked up the sound of rushing water. A break in the ice, revealing the black, swirling water beneath as it roared by with a vicious current. And clinging to the edge of that hole in the ice was a man.

Or at least it appeared to be a man. His waist and legs were submerged in the icy water, with just his arms, shoulders, and head sticking out and clinging on to the jagged ice.

At first glance he didn't appear to be moving, but as Pippin took a nervous step towards the bank, the man lifted his head.

Getting a closer look didn't reveal much. This mysterious man was dressed in blacks and blues, with a hood and mask covering most of his face. The only skin he could see was tan around pale grey eyes that stared up at the small Hobbit. This man almost looked like the raven that had led him here.

Pippin looked around, spotting said raven perched very nearby. It cawed, flapping its wings desperately. The man in the water spoke, quiet and horse, but obviously in Elvish. The bird sounded sad in its chirping response before it flew the short distance to land on Pippin's shoulder. The beast of a bird was almost half the size of the Hobbit, throwing him off balance with a startled cry. Landing on his backside, Pippin clenched his eyes shut.

The voice spoke again, in an accent that reminded Pippin of his own, unsual for an elf... "P-please..." His teeth could be heard chattering from where the Hobbit sat. "Young sir... Get help..." He realized his man saw him as a child, and the Hobbit had had many people make that mistake before.

With the bird hopping beside him now, Pippin stood, unconsciously trying to stand taller. "I can help." he spoke in a nervous voice.

"N-No, child. Please...!" the man began to say more, but the strength in his arms gave a little, dunking more of his body into the water that was trying to drag him in. He sputtered as a wave of the frigid waster splashed over his head and arms.

Pippin shuffled on to the ice across from the man, who struggled nearly 8 feet out. Near the shore the ice was thick, by the damage from the hole had begun to crack the ice around the man.

Pippin froze as the ice creaked beneath his feet, hollow and menacing. With his eyes locked on his feet, he saw the bird hovering over its master out of the corner of his eyes. With a deep breath, he shifted another few feet out, arms shaking. Now he was close enough to see the man was bleeding from his arms and who knows where else. The ice was red beneath his limbs.

Suddenly the Hobbit was glad he was as small as he was. Crouching down, he inched across the ice to be directly in front of the man. He reached down and touched his arms. The cloth was damp and nearly frozen, sticking to the skin underneath. Pippin looked up, in to his piercing eyes, as pale as the moon. Strands of wet, black hair stuck to his forehead. "I'm not a child." Pippin said suddenly. "I'm a Hobbit." With that, he grabbed both arms and, struggling to lift them far enough, wrapped both around his shoulders. Standing and pulling on the waterlogged burden nearly toppled the Hobbit. He put his entire weight in to leaning, eyes squeezing shut, before the icy trap released its hold.

Falling to his backside, Pippin gasped in shock, eyes popping open. He had done it! The man had apparently fainted during the ordeal, as he did not move his legs that still dangled in the water.

Standing with the intention of getting back to shore, Pippin had just got his footing when he felt like he was not alone. The crow had gone quiet, he noticed with an uneasy feeling as he slowly turned around.


	2. Evil

**After pulling a mysterious, freezing man from an ice-covered river, Peregrin Took learns the hard lesson the evil doesn't lie in just Goblins and Orcs. Evil has many forms, and Pippin is about to learn a few.**

* * *

Pippin turned, terrified to face whatever was near. Not half an hour ago he had wished he wasn't alone, and now that he'd gotten that wish, he just wanted to take it back.

Before the young Hobbit could turn around, a large hand grabbed the back of his neck, another on his arm. He kicked his legs and let out a scream, which was quickly covered by another hand. A deep, angry voice spoke.

"What did I say about the screamers?" It growled, before the hand on his neck replaced the one on his mouth. "I di'nt know it'd scream..." The voice behind him complained, pulling Pippin closer to the body that it belonged to. Pippin thrashed against the hands, twisting and turning before he was able to get one in sight. Their appearance nearly stilled his heart.

Huge monsters of men, at least six-and-a-half feet tall and muscled beyond belief. The angry voice belonged to this one, clad in red and brown, leather jacket and torn pants. His hair was long and unkempt, and his bottom lip stuck out in an under bite. There was no counting his scars.

This terrifying giant reached down and grabbed the man from the ice by the back of his robe, lifting him with ease as he hung like a ragdoll. "Thought you'd escape us again, little bird?" The captor cooed as he lifted the small man's unconscious face. "And now you've made a friend for us as well." His voice was venomous as his eyes turned to Pippin. "This'll be fun."

* * *

"The trees open here." Aragorn exclaimed as they burst into the clearing, silence greeting them. Their eyes immediately fell on the bloody ice, pulling a cry from Merry. "Oh, Pippin, no! Strider -!"

The tracker strode towards the ice, taking in all of the tracks that had disturbed the snow, and the freshly frozen sheet of ice that had already begun to cover the hole. "Pippin stepped on to the ice after it had broken. Something trapped in the ice drew his attention. Another two, very large, came and left. No other prints leave, so they must have been carried." He observed, following the departing tracks with his eyes.

"Then we must make haste!" Boromir said, stepping up beside Aragorn. "We don't know if those who made these tracks are friend or foe. Come, Merry." The trio set out across the ice, careful of their steps, as the torch only illuminated but a few feet around them.

* * *

The cloth across his mouth smelled old and dusty, tickling the little Hobbit's nose. But a tickled nose was the least of Pippin's concerns as he was carried on the back of this beast- even taller than the first. Carried further from his companions.

Their treatment thus far had been rough, to say the least. Pippin's wrists were already burned by the rope, and his shoulder felt dislocated from where he had been grabbed. He flinched every time the captor would take a particularly high step.

The man from the ice fared no better, trembling on the back of the other brute, and Pippin could hear his heavy breathing in the darkness. He didn't even need binds to keep him still. The thug that carried him had just wrapped limp arms around his neck and lifted him, similar to what Pippin had done to save him in the first place.

It felt like an hour had passed in almost total darkness before the trek stopped before a makeshift gate and two bored looking guards. Pippin wriggle, trying to make noise around the gag, but the guards clearly didn't care. "Caught the feathery brat- "

"An' another little one!" Chimed the man holding Pippin, receiving a glare from the first. The guards gave a nod and opened the gate to a very dreary camp. Long-term tents, animal pens, the gate around them... This was some poor excuse for a bandit camp, Pippin thought.

The prisoners were taken to a stitched up tent, barely held together by the poor patchwork, but there was a glowing torch within, and Pippin was at least thankful for the light. The rest, however, was worse- musty air, a strange smell, very little room... Pippin's stomach dropped when he saw a set of chains and bindings. What did they intend to do?!

The little Hobbit had no time to find out as they dropped the shivering man like a sack of potatoes. He let out a feeble cough, breath knocked out of him. The man who had carried him turned away for a moment, to a chest that sat in the tent. Unlocking it, he pulled out some old clothes- black breaches, a brown shirt with moth-eaten sleeves, and a pair of socks with open toes. "Little one'll need smaller clothes." he muttered to the man who still held Pippin on his back. "Smaller shackles, too."

Turning back to the man on the ground, he crouched and pulled a knife from his belt. Pippin let out a startled squeak before the man stabbed it into the ground beside him. He set to work stripping the frosty clothes off of the smaller man. As he did, Pippin couldn't help but look.

The man on the ground wore a dark blue robe, accented with blacks and blues, and a pair of leather gloves. He had on baggy pants beneath the robe, and long boots. There was also the hood that covered his face, blue with a pair of black wings stitched in to the sides.

Their captor started with his shoes, then pants, which Pippin was embarrassed to watch. Then he pulled off the hood with a rough tug, revealing the face of an elf. His skin was obviously supposed to be tanned, but even in the shadows Pippin could see how pale he was. His nose was sharp, as were most of his other features, going well with his pointed ears poking out of his long black hair that fell past his shoulder. When his robe was removed, a great many scars were revealed on the man- or rather, the elf's lean torso.

Pippin felt his heart sink further, suddenly terrified of whatever was to happen to him. His mind began to race, imagining how that elf got each one of his scars. Before the Hobbit went through all of the scars, his fellow prisoner was dressed again and shackled, wrists together and attached to a collar around his neck. These shackles were secured by a heavy metal post in the ground.

The man who carried him suddenly reached around, lifting Pippin up and off, before dropping him beside the elf. "Now you stay 'ere, okay?" He demanded. "Ain't any fun chasin' 'im around every time." Pippin was shaking as the man towered over him, and he couldn't help but nod dumbly.

The big guy grinned before walking out of the tent, leaving the other to watch them quietly from a darker corner of the tent. The elf stirred with a whimper, eyes flicking open. Taking in his surroundings, he let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes tight for a moment before they popped back open.

He turned his head towards Pippin, eyes wide. "...Oh young Hobbit..." His voice was brokenhearted, a catch in his throat stopping his hoarse voice.

The man in the room cleared his throat, demanding silence. Pippin pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. He glanced up at the elf, who was looking rather devastated, and he suddenly felt guilty. 'I should have just gotten help...' he thought, burying his face in his arms.

...

Before long, shackles had been found in 'little size' and Pippin was chained the same as the elf, his gag finally removed. The only relief the poor prisoners got was the guards leaving them.

"I apologize, young master Hobbit." The elf finally spoke, eyes on Pippin. "I am afraid I have gotten you in more trouble than you deserve..."

Pippin frowned, still hugging his knees. He wasn't sure how to respond. He knew he should apologize as well, but put it off. "Ah... It's alright." He replied instead. "I'm used to getting in trouble." He tries to chuckle, but it came out shaky from his nerves. "Why, me and Merry always... Merry!" Pippin suddenly exclaimed, startling the elf. Turning, his face filled with excitement. "Merry's got to be looking for me! Oh I know he is, him and Boromir and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli and..."

Pippin was filled again with hope, nearly bouncing as he listed off his friends, to which the elf couldn't help but chuckle. "My, you've quite the collection of friends. I do hope they will find you." he said, still sad in his eyes. Pippin grinned. "They'll find us both. And Gandalf'll turn them to toads, I bet."

The elf quirked a brow. "Turn them to toads?"

"Oh, Gandalf's a wizard. Best wizard around." Pippin gloated proudly. The elf smiled in response, glancing down at his restraints. "I'm sure he is. Some magic would be very helpful at this moment..." He pulled at the bindings, shaking the chains. With a sigh, he turned back to Pippin.

"So, may I know the name of the brave Hobbit who pulled me from the ice?" He asked with a light smile. "If we are to speak and wait for your companions, I would like to speak as friends."

Pippin nodded, shifting to sit more comfortably. "Peregrin Took, of the Shire. Or Pippin. My friends call me Pippin."

The elf gave a half bow. "Peregrin 'Pippin' Took, I thank you. I am Ithilhen, and I owe you the everlasting life that you saved."

Pippin couldn't help but blush, shocked (and thankful for the dull lighting.) "I-I... I only got you out of water... We're still stuck!" He babbled.

The elf gave a coy smile. "I thought Merry and Boromir and Aragorn and the others were coming...?" Pippin scrunched his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

"They are... They're coming."


	3. Something Terrible

**WARNING: Violence/gore, torture/abuse, rape (in this chapter)**

Merry's eyes turned to the sky, warm colors playing across the clouds as the sun began to rise. Had they really been searching so long? The thought suddenly made his legs drained, a yawn stretching his mouth. Boromir chuckled beside him, placing a hand on his little Hobbit's shoulder. "It won't be long, master Merry." The man glanced up to catch Aragorn giving him a disapproving stare, to which Boromir quickly returned.

* * *

"So... You've escaped before?" Pippin asked after some minutes of silence. The elf, Ithilhen, had been drifting to sleep, but groggily lifted his head. The Hobbit took note of how tired he looked, but was amazed he was in as good a shape as he was, considering.

"Aye, indeed I have..." Ithilhen replied. He shook the hair from his face and the sleep from his eyes. "Mostly through... idiocy on our captors' part." The corners of his mouth turned up. "But I have skills a plenty, and am not often taken for a fool. But, these bindings..." He lifted his wrists and shook them, crinkling his nose. "...are something different..." He sighed heavily, head dropping dismally.

Pippin tilted his head, not following what the elf implied. "Oh." He replied nervously, pausing now, unsure of how to ask what was on his mind. "...What're they going to do to us?" He squeaked after a short while.

The elf looked at him, eyes sad. "I don't know little friend." He lied. "...But I promise this to you now, I will not let them hurt you." He held the Hobbit's eyes, hoping to show him some form of comfort, and when Pippin's blue eyes reflected desperation, he continued. "And your friends will be here. And if they don't, I'll find a way out. Keep hope, Pippin."

Their talk was interrupted as the man who had carried Pippin ducked in to the tent. He had to crouch to fit beneath its cloth ceiling, but still towered over the Hobbit and the Elf, who were now overcome with dread.

"The boss says it's okay." He said, as though it would explain what his intentions were. His huge hand suddenly reached out for Pippin, who couldn't help but scream. The elf acted quickly, kicking his leg up and striking the menacing hand away. With a grunt of anger and shock, the man turned sharply and disappeared from the tent. Deafening silence followed before voices reached the tent.

A new and very unfriendly face entered, followed by the giant from before. Without a pause, the newcomer grabbed Ithilhen by his face, squeezing his cheeks. "You're still not broken, filthy bird?" His gravelly voice assaulted their ear. "No he ain't. Boss said I could, an the bird kicked me." the giant complained.

"And the bird knows what we do about that. How about we show his little friend what we do, Ghun?" The gravelly man spoke to the giant (apparently named Ghun...) who nodded eagerly, a delighted smile on his big face. To the chest he went, pulling a many-tailed whip from within. Pippin felt cold, 'please don't let it be me' running through his mind, and he felt guilty relief when Ithilhen's chains were released from the post.

He struggled and kicked as they shoved him, face first, into the dirt. Ghun's big hands pulled the tattered shirt from the elf's back and held his shoulders down, but he still fought, legs kicking at the gravelly man that stood over him. Pippin didn't want to watch, but his eyes didn't seem to want to focus on anything else in the darkness. It made his stomach feel ill, but he couldn't look away.

Even as the gravelly man placed a heavy foot on Ithilhen's backside and drew back his arm... The crack of the whip was almost as bad as the scream that followed as the elf's skin was flayed, another scar added to the mess on his back. His torso twisted against the two men, and Pippin wondered how this crazy elf had kept his will to fight through all he must have already gone through.

The whip cracked again, and again, and twice more before Ithilhen's struggles subsided to convulsions and sobs. His back was painted red, and Pippin nearly fainted as he realized the blood had sprayed across the room and over his own face. He closed his eyes tight and rubbed at his face with his sleeves, half hoping that when he opened them again, none of this would be here. That he'd be back in the Shire, or at least back with his friends.

But when the little Hobbit's eyes did open, he was sure he was nowhere near home... No Hobbit would ever do this - any of this. They wouldn't whip another into a delirious trauma, they would certainly not straddle the poor fellow in such a way, pressed to the ground and still struggling after it all... Pippin covered his eyes with a sob, shoulders bunching up around his head. He longed for home, for the Shire, where there would be no foul and cruel a deed as rape to break their minds.

...

Pippin was doing all he could to drone out the things around him, and the gravelly man laughed as the little Hobbit hummed quietly, his head buried deep in his arms. Ithilhen twitched beneath the man, a feeble attempt to buck the man away. Ghun, who seemed impatient, let out a breath and shifted. "Neil..." He complained to the gravelly man. "I ain't gonna have any fun if you hog 'im..."

Neil, still straddling the trembling elf, grinned at his friend. "Are you asking to go first, Ghun?" He said in an almost singsong voice. The big guy nodded rapidly. "I always go first with our little friends, don't I? But I'm sure they'll like it just as much. He's all your." Neil stood. "Don't let him go, but don't break him." He added sternly, before leaving the tent. Ghun had nodded the entire time, and kept nodding as he lifted his hands from the elf's shoulders to his sides. Being careful, like his friend had said, he lifted and rolled the elf, who let out a strangled cry as his back rubbed against the dirt, arching away from it. His bound hands clenched, eyes remaining tightly closed.

The large man tugged on the bloody shirt, pulling it down to cover Ithilhen's torso and, almost thankfully, his back. Ithilhen's breath came out in rasps through gritted teeth now, back still arched up. It was almost distraction enough to forget what was to come, but the tug on his pants brought a kick to his legs, though they did little more than help the beast of a man get an easier hold around him. The elf groaned, throat raw and face wet from his cries. Ghun leaned over him, removing his lower clothes with ease. "Bird is pretty dirty now. But that's okay. I don't mind." he said, almost as a consolation to the weeping elf. With one huge hand, Ghun pulled the front of his own pants down, his length already eager to go. It bumped against Ithilhen's leg, and the elf's body went rigid, muscles tightening.

The other hand was firmly on Ithilhen's hip, holding him from writhing around. Shifting, the man awkwardly rubbed against the smooth crease between Elven legs, tearing a shuddering sob from the tense body attached to those legs. His moon-like eyes cracked open for a moment, glaring up at the flushed face of his captor, just before an awkward rub turned into pressure on his opening. He gasped and would have yanked himself away if not for the hand on his hip, and now the other taking hold of his side.

Ithilhen gritted his teeth as the tension tried to push through, quickly realizing he'd be broken by that. "P...plea-se... Not, not that... Dry..." He managed to gasp out, toes curling. "Too big..."

Ghun tilted his head before pulling away, allowing Ithilhen a moment to breathe, loud and deep. His abs were aching from keeping his back arched... And he couldn't help spare a look at the sobbing hobbit nearby. He wanted so much to apologize, but his breath was halted again when a slippery thing suddenly pressed into him. He managed a glance down and saw the man had wet his hands and shaft with something rather cold and thick.

Ithilhen threw his head back, gasping in pain as the too-large finger inside of him moved about. Writhing, one of his hips gave out and his bleeding back nearly hit the ground, but that large hand pulled him close, resting his slender hips on his own oversized lap. The elf nearly thanked him, but the man continued with his fingers, playing with the elf's strained opening, until he became too eager and pulled them out hastily.

Ithilhen knew what would come next, and prayed it would be over quickly. His fingernails dug in to the palm of his hand and he bit his lip as the pressure returned.

With a rough jolt, the tip shoved through, into the poor elf. Ithilhen's mouth dropped open and his fingers splayed, but no sound escaped. He was choked by the pain and the horror in realizing this was just the start. Ghun was more than ready to begin, but the elf around his length was too tight to use as quickly as he would have liked. So he pressed further in, pulling on Ithilhen's hips as he did, and the elf began to choke out sobs again. His legs hung uselessly over the man's shoulders, bending as he was pulled closer, and his arm were bound over his chest. Ithilhen was helpless, trembling and trying to get his own muscles to relax, to ease the pain. But every nerve was screaming, even as their elf could not.

Ghun shifted, raising up on his knees slightly, angling Ithilhen awkwardly so his shoulders supported his own weight. With the change, the man thrust deeply. How was there still more to go?! Ithilhen thought in desperation and rage, before his body gave an involuntary twitch as the horrible girth inside him brushed something sensitive. Ithilhen grit his teeth harder, holding on to his sobs of horror at the feeling. It had been terrible and icy-hot, but he knew he would love it under any other circumstance. He hated to think this would be ruined now...

Finally the man was as far in a he could go, thighs nearly flush with Ithilhen's round cheeks. Ghun was panting excitedly, still trying to thrust further. He pulled back slightly, and groaned at the feeling as he thrust back in. Ithilhen scrunched his eyes tight as the thrusts shook him, jostling his legs and scraping his shoulders against the dirt. The trembling elf still made no noise but shaking breathes, on which he focused. Soon the thrusts grew faster and the man threw back his head, tongue hanging out as his hips moved desperately. Ithilhen wished he was not bound, his hands longed to grab on to some surface for support, his whole body shaking from the force.

With a few suddenly erratic, deep thrust, Ghun let out a deep growl, his hands squeezing so tight on Ithilhen's hips that a sharp cry squeaked from the elf. The large man shuddered in climax, thrusting once more as he came inside the smaller body. He was still for a moment, panting heavily and riding the coattails of the pleasure. Ithilhen felt ill at the feeling inside of him, like his belly was being filled. Too much, too deep... He turned his head, grimacing, and the man continued to empty inside of him for what seemed an impossibly long time. By the time his last short thrust was over, Ithilhen almost felt his belly would look like a woman with child, though he knew it not to be true. Without ease, Ghun pulled out, earning a shocked gasp from the elf, who could now feel the spill leak down his back, mixing with his blood. The man released his crushing grasp on him, and Ithilhen hit the ground with his side, twisting to keep his back safe.

Putting himself back in to his pants, Ghun left the tent and the gravelly man entered, grinning down at the wrecked elf.

"Now he wasn't so bad, was he?" He cooed, crouching down. "Now I'm not one for sharing, so I'm afraid I won't be entertaining tonight." His gravelly voice was mocking. Ithilhen barely noticed a cloth in his hand before the wet fabric jabbed his wounds, cleaning the mess away. He flinched and cried lightly, but bore the torment in front of this man. He was slow in cleaning the damage, even slower when he went to clean away the seed left by Ghun. His fingers were intrusive, though not as large as the other man's, which was almost a thankful thing.

Ithilhen was exhausted, muscles spent, and could barely tense up when the gravely many slipped his fingers inside. All he could do was focus on his breathing, though those fingers dug deep. After a while, the gravelly man seemed satisfied with his cleaning and dressed the elf before standing over him. "Remember this." He spoke to both the Hobbit and the Elf, before attaching the cuffs to the bolt in the ground again. As the man left, Ithilhen caught a glimpse of the sky, blessed unconscious arriving too late. The clouds had just begun to change color to the warm color of a sunrise. Morning was near.

* * *

The sun was peaking over the trees when the trio reached the feeble gate. "What is it?" Merry asked, sticking close to Boromir's side.

"A bandit camp, I believe." The man replied, placing his hand on Merry's back. "They must have found Pippin and brought him back here..." Aragorn turned to the two, hatching a plan.


	4. Escape

Pippin's escape from reality had been mildly successful. His eyes had popped open involuntarily a few times throughout, but they saw very little in the dark. He had continued to hum and cover his head, terrified of stopping.

He didn't know how long it was before he felt something beside him and froze. Daring a peek, he found the tent empty and Ithilhen returned to his binds, head leaned back and body limp.

Pippin shuddered, guilt peeking in to his mind again. Had he hoped that it would not be him...? Or that it would be the elf? He didn't want to think of that, shaking his head.

Pippin peered at the elf beside him. He did not look well; skin as pale as ever, blood staining his clothes, and a desperate whimper would shake him in his sleep every few moments. But Pippin felt more alone then before, and nervously nudged him.

Ithilhen turned his head away, flinching from the touch. Pippin whispered his name and nudged him again. The elf groaned weakly, eyes squinting open enough to see the Hobbit that bothered him. For a moment, his face didn't register, a look of confusion settling over his angled features. But memory dawned again, and his face twisted to despair.

"Oh, young Pippin... I am so sorry..." the elf struggled as his shoulders shook. His silvery eyes were wet by fresh tears. "You should not have bore witness to such a... Such an act..."

Pippin's eyes couldn't help by tear up as well at the guilt of the elf. He would have spoke, but Ithilhen's face suddenly changed, a spark of life leaping to his eyes.

"The key..." he hissed, twisting his cramping arms to reach into his pocket. "That foolish man." He whispered as his grin twisted his lips, hands coming up to reveal a small key between two fingers. Pippin's eyes widened in awe.

"How...?"

Ithilhen smiled and gave a halfhearted wink. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

Pippin stared, unsure if he understood what the elf implied. But for the moment, he didn't care as they key clicked into the lock connecting them to the post. With a turn, it released its hold on the chains round their wrists.

Ithilhen placed a finger to his lips as he struggle to sit right, body screaming in protest. Pippin reached over, pushing on his shoulder to help. With a bit of strain, they were able to get standing before the elf was able to get the key into the lock around Pippin's neck, then his wrists.

As Pippin was about to offer to unlock his friend's restraints, a commotion arose outside. Angry voices, some that sounded familiar, shouting incoherently. Pippin and Ithilhen shared a quick look before the elf shoved the key into the Hobbit's hands, rushing him to unlock the binds. He turned to the chest that held his clothes, looting it and tossing the contents into a shoulder bag that had also been within the container.

A voice grew nearer, and the pair panicked. Quickly, Ithilhen lifted a flap of the tent and ushered Pippin through before rolling out himself. The camp of maybe a dozen men was full of shouts and the smell of something burning. A distraction, they hoped.

Ithilhen tried to take a step, but his legs buckled and he landed hard on his knees with quiet whimper. His back was in agony and his muscles felt spent. With a heavy face he glanced up at the Hobbit, who started.

"Young Pippin, I do not know if I can stand..." He gasped. "You may have to go-"

The elf was abruptly cut off as Pippin grabbed both of his arms and wrapped them around his own neck, turning as though he intended to carry the elf out.

Ithilhen couldn't help a smile. Using his little Hobbit friend as support, he forced his legs to stand, and the two stumbled to the back of the camp.

* * *

The torch quickly caught the wood of the fence ablaze, its weak structure crumbling. The trio circled around to the opposite end, keeping their ears open for noise. Satisfied with the silence, Aragorn signaled Boromir, and the two raised their blades to hack at the wood with a few sure swings. It splintered and came away, opening up to the inside of the camp. Merry darted in, ahead of the two men who tried to protest.

The camp wasn't very large. But there were many places to hide someone, and they only had so much time, time that Merry didn't seem to care about. In a loud whisper, He called his cousin's name.

"Pippin?!"

The men hesitantly joined the call, crouched behind the tents. They could hear the crackle of the fire as it consumed the fence.

…

"Did you hear that?" Ithilhen asked, lifting his head. Pippin looked up at the elf clinging to his shoulders and shook his head.

"I hear a voice... Three voices call your name." He looked down at the Hobbit, eyes questioning. "Your friends, perhaps?"

Pippin's face lit up, but Ithilhen placed his finger to his lips again. Pippin nodded uneasily, and continued to half-drag the elf towards the voices.

It was slow, trying to get the elf to walk but remain crouched to avoid being seen. His legs shook beneath him and constantly stumbled. But he did manage to stand to peer above the tents.

"Two men at the far end of the camp. They call your name, but another voice is with them that I cannot see."

Pippin grinned. "Merry, I bet..." He tried to stand on his toes, to get a look as well. But Ithilhen pushed on his shoulders, urging him on. "If they are, we must get to them."

It had seemed a short distance, so Pippin ventured a call. "Merry!"

…

Merry turned his head, swearing he heard something. Looking back, Boromir nodded, and Aragorn heard it as well. Merry called back, heart racing.

"The fire is nearly out." whispered Aragorn.

…

"They heard you." Ithilhen whispered, knees shaking. The next step brought him down, starling Pippin. "No, no, they're just over there..." he pleaded, but the elf was shaking hard.

…

"They're coming back!" Boromir hissed, ducking behind a tent. The bandits had extinguished the fire and were fighting amongst themselves, shouting about the fire and going for their weapons.

"Pippin!" Merry called again, startled by the quick reply. "Merry, come help-!" His young cousin's voice was just loud enough to hear over the noise of the men.

Merry looked at his companions, who hesitantly nodded. The trio crept along the exterior of the camp, between the tents and the wall. Pippin was closer then they had thought, peeking around a tent and startling the group. His face lit up and he waved them over before he disappeared back around the corner.

Merry darted the short distance to get to his cousin, Aragorn and Boromir keeping a watch. "Pippin, we've got to… get… Who is that?" He asked at the sight of the faint elf, curled up on his side, who Pippin was trying to pull to his feet. "Don't worry, he's a good guy." Pippin grunted, letting go of Ithilhen's arm. "But he's hurt, he can't get up." He turned his eyes on his cousin, and Merry let out a sigh.

The Hobbit glanced around before dashing back to the two waiting men. "Pippin's got a friend, he needs help." Merry reported. The men let out exasperated noises, glancing around. It was amazing they hadn't been seen, but they were pushing their luck. "Very well." Boromir said, following Merry, crouched as low as he could behind the tents.

Pippin was still crouched by Ithilhen when the two returned, but nearly jumped with joy when Boromir arrived. The man smiled, happy to see the little Hobbit again, and stooped beside him. "We're going to need some explanation once we return to camp…" He whispered, looking at the elf. Pippin nodded hurriedly, reaching down to grab his companion's arm before Boromir took hold and manhandled the elf over his shoulder.

With a look between the three, they hurried back to Aragorn, whose sword was drawn. He gave them a questioning look, but disregarded it as they turned to flee.

"Hey!" An unfortunately familiar gravelly voice stopped them. Pippin flinched and cowered behind Boromir.

Merry drew his small blade, ready to fight, but Aragorn grabbed him around the waist, Boromir grabbing Pippin with his free arm, and they ran through the opening they had cut in the fence. A racket arose behind them as the bandits took up their arms and gave chase.


	5. Hurt

Ithilhen woke with a start, immediately thrashing against the hands that held his shoulders down, eyes squeezed shut as he cursed in Elvish. The hands were joined by more, grabbing at his flailing limbs.

"Leithio nin!_1_" he screamed. "Daro! Edraith enni, amin uuma merna ta..._2_" The elf's struggles died down as his wrists were crossed and held to his chest and ankles forced to the ground. He babbled quietly, "Tanya awra _3_" and "reitho _4_" distinguishable words throughout.

Ithilhen's own voice drowned out the noise around him. He didn't want to see or hear, and wished he didn't have to feel - though he couldn't tell what the hands on him were doing. His joints ached, his spine was stiff, and it felt like his hips had a load of pressure on them. Just as he began to think about his numb leg, a loud pop shot up from his hip, startling the elf into silence through a violent lurch. He heard a deep voice near his side and another by his hip, though they sounded muddled from the swimming in his head.

Ithilhen took a moment to breath, shivering as he did. The strain on his waist had lessened with the pop. The hands still held him firmly, but not cruelly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking another shaky breath. Slowly he took note of his battered body, from head to toe. His face was cold and clammy, shoulders digging in to a rock beneath them... His chest felt bound, raising and falling uneasily. Hands were very still beneath the stranger's, though his wrists felt bruised and scratched. His back was blessedly numb and also felt bound - in fact his entire torso was tightly wrapped. His hips dared not move, legs slowly regaining feeling and twitching sporadically. His toes were tightly curled in his boots. As his personal check finished, he felt a shift at his side, another body beside him. Ithilhen had to resist the urge to open his eyes as a voice spoke to him.

"Lasto nin. _Listen to me._ I eneth nîn Legolas. _My name is Legolas._" The Elvish words were almost comforting to hear. "Av-'osto. _Don't be afraid._ Davo eithad anech..._ Let me help you._"

Ithilhen turned his head slightly to face the voice. He opened his mouth to respond, hesitating for a long moment. "...Im Ithilhen estar. _They call me Ithilhen._" He said in a hushed and broken voice. There was silence for a moment before his moon-eyes cracked open, peeking into the emerald gaze that stared down at him. He blinked at the sunlight as his sight adjusted. The blonde haired elf knelt beside him, carefully watching him.

Ithilhen tensed and turned his head to look at the man holding his wrists down, piercing stare glaring into blue. He looked down and around quickly, spying a dwarf at his feet and a man at his side opposite the elf. His body went rigid and his heart beat thundered in his chest.

The man above him and the dwarf visibly tensed, but the dark haired man put up a hand. "Uuma dela. _Don't worry._" he said calmly. "Lle ume._ You did well._"

Ithilhen stared at the man for a long moment as tears stung at his eyes. His muscles slowly relaxed with a shaking breath. The man motioned for the dwarf and the other man to release their holds. The elf lay still as the hands left him, too sore to move.

"You are among friends." Legolas spoke. "We mean you no harm."

"We were trying to tend to your wounds when the pressure from resetting your hip must have awoken you." Aragorn explained, shifting away somewhat. Gimli and Boromir stepped back a short way, still watching closely.

"Pippin told us how a bird led him to find you." Boromir chimed in. "In the ice, before those bandits attacked."

Ithilhen tried to hide his flinch at the mention of those men. He nodded. "Yara, my raven." He replied softly. His eyes scanned the area, saddened by the lack of his feathery companion.

"And he told us you took a beating to help him." Gimli said. "A pretty nasty one by the looks of it."

Ithilhen nodded again. He stared hard at a cloud that drifted overhead, brow furrowed and lips pursed tight. He swallowed stiffly. The silence was palpable.

Ithilhen turned his head towards Legolas again. "How does the Hobbit fare?" He asked awkwardly. The other elf smiled. "He is shaken, but unharmed. He will be fine."

He returned his eyes to the cloud. It took but a moment for his eyes to shut without his permission, heavy sleep taking away his thoughts.

* * *

Ithilhen woke an hour later to a weight on his arm. He sat bolt upright, nearly knocking the two close Hobbits over from the shock.

Merry and Pippin had been watching, waiting for any sign of consciousness from the dead asleep elf. Sam and Frodo sat close by, but didn't wish to crowd. His features had been relaxed, though his body had stayed rigid, barely moving. His breath had returned to normal, his injuries healing with that speedy recovery of elves.

Though his back protested from the sudden movement, and he hissed out a curse before spotting his friend.

"Pippin, cormamin lindua ele lle!" He exclaimed through a hoarse voice. At the confused look, he spoke again. "My heart sings to see you well, my little Hobbit friend." The elf smiled wide. Frodo and Sam chuckled at Pippin embarrassed response.

Merry, who sat beside Pippin, raised a brow. For such a short time, the two seemed quite friendly. Though it was understandable, given the circumstances…

...

On the other side of the camp, Gandalf was speaking with the rest of his company.

"I thought only wizards did magic." Gimli exclaimed, earning a shake of Gandalf's bearded head.

"There are many magical creatures in this world, including wizards. Yes, it seems our young Pippin's friend is a Druid of sorts. Or an elemental, as some would say."

Boromir pushed away from his perch against a tree. "What makes you so sure of that?" He asked. "We've only known of him a few hours, most of which he's been unconscious."

Gandalf eyed the man and Gimli spoke, exasperated. "Already forgot that blast? Nearly knocked my head off!" He shot a glower over his shoulder at the elf that was now speaking with the Hobbits.

"Among other things." Gandalf added. "The raven familiar Pippin recalled, the 'strange cuffs' that kept them." He cleared his throat. "The gem in his bag." He mumbled. Aragorn chuckled at the old wizard, guilty of rummaging through bags. Gandalf smiled back at him, before continuing. "A gem that draws the power of the natural world. Druids are magicians of nature and the life around them. They mostly practice white magic, though we may still be cautious."

Gimli huffed. "Well I don't like him." He folded his arms crossly. Legolas laughed quietly. "What are you laughing about?" Gimli demanded, the elf shaking his head. "Nothing, master dwarf." He kept grinning, though, quickly getting on the dwarf's nerves.

Before Gimli threw a fit, the small group shifted to join the others.

Ithilhen had propped himself against a log and was telling the curious Halflings about some adventure of yesteryear. He seemed to time his tale just right for the new arrivals. "…and you could hear his iron shoes dragging across the stone floors. Those fiery eyes were just a few feet away, and the light of my flames glinted off his mouthful of teeth… I could almost taste the blood in the air, when suddenly…" He trailed off when his eyes landed on the men, elf, and dwarf that stood nearby. Sam, who had been tensely perched beside Frodo, looked flabbergasted. "Well what happened?" asked the Hobbit, glancing over at the others that had joined them. "You can't just leave a story like that!"

"Yeah!" Pippin exclaimed. "Did that goblin thing get you?"

The group gave him an odd look, letting his question sink in for a moment. "Err... That is..." he mumbled, trying to correct himself.

Gandalf stepped in, tapping his staff to get their attention. "Alright, little Hobbits, leave it be. I've things to discuss with the storyteller..." The Halflings looked disappointed, and Boromir spoke up. "Come, we can practice sparring again." He led them away to give the others a chance to speak, and Ithilhen immediately became guarded at their absence. He eyed the wizard, the man, the elf, and the dwarf that stood before him. Feeling small sitting down, he pushed himself to stand with them - though now he was only the second shortest, even as he tried to straighten his back and appear more able. Though it hurt, he stood quietly, arms folded across his chest.

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances, and Gimli tried to appear bigger as well, puffing up his chest. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight to rest on his staff. "So you are clearly a mage of some skill."

Ithilhen blinked, pale eyes glancing between the four.

"Even a young mage has power to defend themselves." Gandalf said, eyeing the increasingly nervous elf. "How was it that a group of imprudent bandits were able to keep a Druid?"

Ithilhen's gaze dropped for a moment, glancing at the ground. "It's... They didn't overpower me or anything of the sort..." He looked back up. "In fact they were quite easy to get away from if they slipped up. But there were these... Runes, symbols branded in to leather and metal. The energy of the earth was cut by these strange bindings... It rendered me basically powerless when they were around my wrists and neck." He struggled to explain himself, fiddling with the slowly healing marks on his wrists. "I... Was fool enough to wander near a trap - I'm a wanderer, you see - and was knocked unconscious. When I awoke, I was bound." He paused, glancing around again and shifting his weight off his aching hip. "I don't recall how many days ago that was. I escaped twice, but somehow was found each time..." The elf looked rather defeated and guilty. "When Pippin found me was the third escape."

They listened curiously, wondering how bandits with such a thing to keep a mage were so easily defeated in their final escape. After pulling Pippin and Ithilhen from the camp, they were pursued by the bandits, up in arms. The men were hot on their heels, and overtook them within a few minutes of the chase. However they were easily slain, taken down by the blades of Aragorn and Boromir. The rest fled as their companions began to fall.

Ithilhen rubbed his arms nervously as Gandalf stared at him. "When Pippin told us his account of events, he was leaving something out. Would you know what it could be?" His voice was on the border between caring and intimidating, and Ithilhen knew that this Wizard was well aware of what was left out. The moon-eyed elf swallowed hard, glancing away and rubbing his arms nervously. He was terrible at trying to hide the truth. And poor Pippin had tried to protect his dignity. Ithilhen kept his eyes down, but felt the four intense stares on him, finally prying his eyes away from the rock by his feet.

Gandalf's wise eyes were sad and knowing, staring in to the pale and broken eyes of the elf. The old wizard's wrinkled face was soft with sympathy. Ithilhen immediately choked on his tears and covered his eyes, curling in on himself and sitting down hard. His shoulders shook with rattling sobs, vivid memories of the last day assaulting his mind. He felt ugly to his core, violated and horrible, like his very essence had been touched by his body's horror. Pressure on his eyes didn't make the memories go away, just pounded them in with more pain. He couldn't speak now, but tried anyway, producing a mess of languages. He wanted to explain away what happened, shove it back with words that were failing him. Finally breaking down was chaos, but each new tear and sob that left him took a bit of pain with it. Not enough... But the pain would leave. With time.

Ithilhen didn't know how long he cried, but the delirium in his head finally broke with a calming feeling melting through. His mind turned back out to the world, a pressure on his forehead drawing his attention. Fingers, old yet strong. Slowly easing the storm in his mind.

Though now he could feel the throbbing in his skull, aching from the strain of crying.

Calmly, he took note of lean arms wrapped around his shoulders, a large hand holding his own, and a small hand holding the other. He could hear humming... Singing? The words weren't clear to him. His eyes opened, still dripping tears that he tried to blink away. The world was blurry.

The fingers in his forehead pulled away before something wiped across his wet face, clearing his eyes a little. With a reluctant sniffle, he peered around.

The first face Ithilhen's eyes met was Gandalf's, stooped directly in front of him, his eyes cool and kind. Then he spotted the dwarf by his side- holding his hand between his own with a nervous look, though he kept glancing at Legolas, who was perched behind Ithilhen. The taller elf was holding him so he sat carefully leaned against him, gently kneading his shoulders. And finally he recognized Pippin's anxious face, latched to his other hand and humming nervously. Ithilhen recognized the song from... Before. His eyes teared up again and he laughed through a sob, mouth turning up at the corners. Exhausted, his eyes squinted and flickered shut, his head landing in Legolas' shoulder.

Pippin looked shocked, turning to Gandalf, who put up his hand. "Sleeping." He said softly. "As you should be." The day had passed quickly, and night was falling. The traumatized elf had been inconsolable for a good few hours before subsiding.

"It was a terrible thing." Gandalf said sadly. "And was neither of your faults. There are bad people in this world... But there are also good. And the good are what one needs in times like this." The wizard put a hand in Pippin's shoulder, giving him a nod and a smile. Pippin returned the smile weakly, returning his eyes to his quiet companion.

Gimli let out a huff of air, letting go of Ithilhen's hand. "Grabbed my hand..." He grumbled. "...Crazy elves..." He looked away, embarrassed, as Legolas smiled at him. Carefully he moved, placing the smaller elf back on the ground. He stood and stretched, lanky limbs popping as he did. He reached out a hand to Gimli, who took it without thinking.

The rest of the group had watched from outside the small circle. Suddenly, Pippin's stomach growled, and everyone looked at each other. "Well, it's just about supper time, isn't it?" Boromir asked with a grin at his Hobbit friends, who nodded back after a worried look at the now sleeping elf. It would be best not to wake him now...

But they didn't need to be reminded that their own journey was still underway. They could spend no more time after this night before continuing up the mountain pass.

* * *

_1 - Leithio nin! = Release me!_

_2 – Daro! Edraith enni, amin uuma merna ta… = Stop! Save me, I don't want it…_

_3 – Tanya awra… = That/it hurt…_

_4- Reitho… = Help…_


	6. Black Bird's Flight

The moon was high in the starry sky when Ithilhen's pale eyes opened. He sat slowly, peering at the sleeping forms around him.

The Hobbits lay closest, cuddled up to each other and sleeping soundly. Around them were the men and dwarf, loud snores drifting from them with heavy breaths. Legolas stood on the other side of camp, attention now on the other elf.

Ithilhen gave him a look, before turning to the sleeping Pippin. With a sad smile, he placed a kiss lightly on the Halfling's forehead, and whispered "We will meet again..."

Standing stiffly, he stepped over the resting bodies to stand before the taller elf. Legolas gave him a inquisitive look. "What do you intend to do?" The blonde asked, his voice barely above a breath. Ithilhen sighed with a shrug.

"I need rest..." He replied, pale eyes flicking around the camp in search of his bag. "I will go to Rivendell. I haven't the strength to cross back over the mountains."

He glanced back at his sleeping friend reluctantly. When he returned his gaze to Legolas, his eyes were guilty.

"You will not wait till morning?" Legolas asked, following Ithilhen's gloomy stare. "I am sure Pippin would like to say farewell."

Ithilhen shook his head hard. "He may wish to, but I cannot. I am a wanderer, I... Avoid attachments. Only really spoke to my bird, and now she's gone... When I say goodbye, it is always for good." He scrunched up his nose in an attempt to explain. "I'd not spoken to another elf in years before now... Even picked up an accent." He chuckled lightly. He remembered that brief moment of amusement when he had first heard Pippin's voice and how similar the inflections in their voices had been.

Turning his cold eyes to Legolas' emerald, he frowned, a determined look settling on his features. "I do not wish for a permanent goodbye. I will wait at Rivendell to prove it."

Legolas blinked, looking concerned. "There... Is no guarantee our journal will succeed." He said uneasily. Ithilhen stared at him hard, a quiet pause between them.

"I will wait. Even if I never wander again." Ithilhen's face softened as his lips turned up in a smile, but his eyes were watering. "I want to finish telling my story, after all."

* * *

The sun peeked through the trees as the frosty morning woke the Fellowship. Legolas had kept the watch throughout the night, perched on a rock as he watched his companions stir.

Gandalf was the first to notice the absence of the other elf, knowing eyes turning on Legolas before shifting to Pippin. The small Hobbit yawned and stretched. His tired eyes and mind didn't quite click what was missing at first, before he was wide awake from the realization.

"Where'd he go?" Pippin gasped, looking around as though the elf hid from him. The other Hobbits sat up beside him, glancing about curiously.

"Gone to Rivendell in the night." Legolas explained, stepping closer. "He spoke of healing and rest..." He hesitated a moment, unsure if he wanted to relay more. But Gandalf gave him a slight nod of assurance, so he let out a light sigh and continued.

"Ithilhen wished us well on our journey, and promised to finish his story for you once we return..." He finished with a little unwillingness.

This earned an exchange of looks between the companions. Pippin tilted his head, frowning dejectedly, before he felt Merry nudge him.

"Well, we better get going if we want to hear what happened to that Redcap, right?" His cousin said with a reassuring smile. Sam leaned over as well, patting a hand on his back. "And another story, on account of leaving the other one hanging like that." Frodo joined in, perched beside Sam. "And we'll have our own story to tell when we get back."

The others couldn't help but smile at the spirit in the little ones. Pippin jumped to his feet with a determined nod. "Right!" He exclaimed, grinning around at the group. "How much longer could it be, anyway?"

* * *

_Hello~! Hope you all enjoyed my little tale. Sorry the final chapter was the shortest..._

_But depending on the feedback, I may write their reunion, so stay tuned and let me know your thoughts!_


End file.
